


I AIN'T AFRAID OF NO GHOSTS

by rabiscar



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Bellarke, F/M, haunted au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:28:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4199124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabiscar/pseuds/rabiscar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wait!” Bellamy called and scrambled to his feet. </p><p>She looked over her shoulder to cock an eyebrow at him. </p><p>“It’s just- you’ve lived here a while right?” he asked. </p><p>“Yeah,” Clarke said slowly. “Since I started my residency so about a year now.” </p><p>“Hm,” Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “And you haven’t noticed anything weird?” he asked. </p><p>“You mean besides this conversation?” </p><p>He fixed her with a glare and rolled his eyes. </p><p>“No, I mean like anything…paranormal." </p><p>HAUNTED APARTMENT AU - VERY SPOOKTACULAR</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke tilted forward until her forehead leaned against the cool surface of the elevator mirror. 

“I’m dead,” she muttered aloud and stared at the dark circles under her eyes. “I’m dead to the world.” 

She twisted her hair in a messy bun and glanced up, wondering if she could take her bra off from under her scrubs before the elevator reached her floor.

DING!

The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors slid open. 

“Fuck it,” she muttered and reached behind her to pop her bra open. She was stepping out into the carpeted hallway and wriggling the strap over her shoulder when she saw him. 

A boy (Man? Were males her age men yet?) sitting on the floor and staring down the hall at her. She cocked her head and he immediately look down and busied himself with his phone. Clarke walked tentatively down the hall towards him. Her mouth went dry when she realized the man (he was definitely a man) was seated directly across from her apartment door. He wore boxers and a hoodie and his hair stood up in every direction. 

She took a deep breath, tightened her hold on her side bag, and marched towards him. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded. 

“Hm?” he looked up from his phone. “Uh, nothing,” he pushed a hand through his hair. 

“It’s 3 AM,” Clarke said. “Why are you out here? Were you waiting for me?” 

“What? No!” He scoffed. “I live here,” he insisted and let his head thud against the door behind him. 

Clarke looked from him to the door and back again. He wasn’t wearing any shoes. 

“See?” he said and held up a set of house keys. 

“Hmph,” she grunted. “Wait, is that a Napoleon Dynamite keychain?” 

“Yeah,” he jutted out his chin and met her look defiantly. “Is that your bra hanging out of your sleeve?” 

She bristled and lifted her arm up. 

“Oh yeah,” she said absently and tugged it out. She shoved the bra into her purse and redirected her attention to his keychain. 

“That’s fucking unacceptable,” she told him. “My friend has the same one. Only she’s got a valid excuse because she got it at BK with her brother when they were kids and she’s sort of hopelessly sentimental,” she shrugged. “Does yours still work?” 

He frowned but pressed his thumb over the button obligingly. 

“I like your sleeves. They’re real big,” Napoleon’s voice rumbled out of the cheap plastic. 

“Unacceptable,” Clarke snickered and shook her head. “What’s your excuse?” 

He raised his shoulders. 

“I got it at BK with my sister when we were kids and I’m sort of hopelessly sentimental?” he smirked. 

She laughed but then something flickered in her eyes. 

“Wait,” she squatted down to squint at his face. Dark eyes, freckled cheeks, a permanent air of impudence- 

“Are you Bellamy?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded lazily. “You’re Clarke right?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “How long were you going to sit there before you told me you were the brother?” 

“I didn’t recognize you til you brought up Octavia and the keychain,” he protested. “I’ve only ever seen you on facebook!” 

“Well, you could have told me!” she shoved him in the shoulder. “Jesus, what are you doing here anyway?” 

“I told you,” he dangled the keys out in front of her. “I live here now, I just moved in today.” 

“You mean to say that Octavia neglected to tell me her brother was moving in across the hall from me?” she asked in disbelief. 

“Well, she doesn’t exactly know yet,” Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

“What?” Clarke gaped. 

“She knows I’m moving into town I just haven’t told her my address yet,” he explained. “I wanted like, a day, to move my stuff in and just buy toilet paper or whatever before she comes running in and judging my mental state by how many pizzas I have in the freezer.” 

“Fair enough,” Clarke nodded. “I’ll try to keep it quiet until you tell her yourself but no promises. Octavia’s kind of tough to keep secrets from.” 

“I know,” he smiled wryly. “But thanks anyway.” 

“Right,” Clarke smiled back at him. “Anyway, I haven’t slept since Thursday so I’m gonna head in,” she jerked her head at her door. “I’ll see you around.” 

She turned and jammed her key into the doorknob. 

“Wait!” Bellamy called and scrambled to his feet. 

She looked over her shoulder to cock an eyebrow at him. 

“It’s just- you’ve lived here a while right?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Clarke said slowly. “Since I started my residency so about a year now.” 

“Hm,” Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “And you haven’t noticed anything weird?” he asked. 

“You mean besides this conversation?” 

He fixed her with a glare and rolled his eyes. 

“No, I mean like anything…paranormal,” he amended and flexed his fingers at his side. 

Clarke stared at him searchingly, her eyes roving over his face for any hint of a joke. 

“Are you asking me if this apartment building is haunted?”

His cheeks tinged pink and he rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“I mean, maybe,” he answered. 

“Is that why you’re out here?” she asked. “You’re sitting out in the hallway in your pajamas because you think there’s a ghost in your apartment?” 

“Maybe,” he grumbled again. “You don’t get it and you’ll never believe me but I swear to god, Clarke. Something weird was happening in there earlier,” he pushed both hands through his hair. 

“What sort of weird?” she asked. 

He huffed. “You won’t believe me.” 

“Try me,” Clarke straightened and crossed her arms over her chest. 

He puffed out his cheeks.

“Just. . .weird stuff,” he shrugged. “Footsteps, rustling sounds, doors slamming, that sort of thing,” he said in a rush. 

“And you do realize that you live in a Victorian apartment building with loads of thumps and bumps and thin walls, right?” Clarke asked with her eyebrows raised. “All of those sounds could have just been your neighbours,” she said. 

“I’ve lived in apartments my whole life,” Bellamy insisted. “I know what neighbours sound like. I’m telling you, the sounds were inside the room with me.”

 

Clarke tilted her head to look at him. 

“You know, if you were anybody but Octavia’s brother I wouldn’t believe you,” she shook her head. “So what was your plan? Sit out in the hallway til morning?” 

“No,” Bellamy huffed. “I was either gonna call O and ask if I could crash with her or just go to Denny’s,” he shrugged. 

Clarke sighed and turned back to her door. 

“Alright, fine,” she said. “Just give me a minute.” 

“Huh?” Bellamy startled. 

“Just give me a minute,” she repeated and shoved her door open. “I’m not going ghost hunting without a bra on.” 

“What?” Bellamy took a step towards her. “I don’t want to go ghost hunting,” he shook his head. 

“Well, I do,” Clarke said over her shoulder and gestured for him to follow her into her apartment. 

“I thought you hadn’t slept since Thursday and were about to pass out,” he argued. 

“I was but then you showed up with your haunted apartment and now there’s no way I’m going to be able to fall asleep,” she threw her keys on a side table and dropped her bag on the floor. “Well, that’s not true,” she amended. “I could probably sleep standing up. But I want to see these ‘ghosts.’” 

Bellamy groaned and buried his face in his hands. 

“Geeze, are you that scared to go back in there?” Clarke asked. “In all of Octavia’s stories you were bull-headed and hopeless but never a scaredy-cat.” 

“I am literally none of those things,” he half-shouted and cut through the air with his hand. 

Clarke raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay, I might be a little bull-headed,” he admitted. 

“Right,” Clarke bobbed her head. “Just wait out here, I’m gonna go change into my ghost hunting gear.”

Before Bellamy could protest she’d already disappeared into the bedroom. Bellamy sat down cautiously on the couch and looked around the apartment. There were watercolour paintings nailed up on the walls and medical textbooks scattered all over the coffee table but so far no signs of ghosts. It figured that he’d get the only haunted apartment in the whole building. 

 

Minutes later, Clarke emerged from her bedroom in her ghost hunting gear- wool slippers, grey joggers, and a batman t-shirt.

“Seriously?” Bellamy asked as he gave her a once-over. 

“What?” she asked defensively. “You’re in pajamas, I wanted to be comfortable too. Plus if we’re chasing after ghosts, I want to feel powerful,” she tugged at the hem of her shirt. 

“Jesus Christ,” Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Come on,” Clarke flapped her hand impatiently. “Let’s go see your haunted house.” 

They traipsed across the hall into Bellamy’s apartment. Furniture was set up haphazardly but the walls and counters were mostly bare. Open boxes were arranged neatly against the wall. 

“Hey, you have more windows than I do,” Clarke observed. 

“We’ll compare real estate features later,” Bellamy rolled his eyes. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were so gun-ho about getting straight to the ghost hunting, seeing as I had to drag you in here,” Clarke retorted. “Are these the books?” She gestured to an open box. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy nodded. “I put them back in the box because every time I tried to set them up they’d fly off the shelf.” 

“Alright,” Clarke nodded. “Well let’s unpack them and see if anything happens. Plus I’ll get a chance to judge your taste in literature.” 

“Great,” Bellamy huffed. 

Clarke started pulling books from the box and setting them on the floor. 

“Dumas, Hemingway, Vonnegut,” she rhymed off. “Dudes, dudes, and more dudes,” she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Wait, what’s this?” she looked up from the box with a look of sheer delight. “Austen? Oh my god. And a lot of Austen. Persuasion, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Pride and Prejudice,” she pulled out paperback after paperback. “Someone’s a fan of 18th century romantic fiction.” 

Bellamy’s glare seemed permanent but held no heat. 

“Let’s get these on the shelf then, front and centre,” Clarke said and cradled the Austen paperbacks lovingly in her arms. She stood and lined them up in a row on the shelf before clapping her hands together in satisfaction at her handiwork. 

“You’re so lucky to heave built-in shelving,” she turned to Bellamy, “I mean, you’ve got a great collection here and they’re going to look so good on the shelf.” 

No sooner had she turned around than did one of the books fly off the shelf and land on the floor with a thud. Clarke spun around and looked from the book to the shelf. 

“Okay,” she said to Bellamy. “That was a little weird.” 

“I told you,” Bellamy responded. 

“But the shelf looks level,” Clarke said. 

Another book flew off the shelf. 

“Geeze!” Clarke yelped and jumped backwards.

“I’m telling you, it’s not natural,” Bellamy gritted out. 

Clarke approached the shelf cautiously and stared at its every plane. 

“There’s got to be a logical explanation for this,” she said. 

The rest of the books slid out and toppled to the floor at once. 

Clarke squealed and jumped again. She met eyes with Bellamy and he raised his brows. 

“Got a logical explanation for that?” he asked. 

“No,” she admitted. “But I’m a scientist, I don’t believe in ghosts.” 

“You’re a doctor, not a scientist,” Bellamy rolled his eyes. 

“I do medical research!” she snapped. 

A door slammed. 

“Jesus!” Clarke exclaimed and moved to stand next to Bellamy.

“Believe in ghosts now?” he asked. 

“No,” she snarled back. 

The doorknob on the closet door jangled violently. 

Bellamy flung out his hand and grabbed a hold of Clarke’s arm. 

“You’re making it angry,” he growled. “Every time you say it doesn’t exist it does something weird,” he intoned in a low voice close to her ear. 

“Okay, okay,” Clarke heaved. Her hand scrambled for a hold on Bellamy’s sleeve. “Maybe we should talk to it.” 

“What?” Bellamy demanded. “We should get the hell out of here is what we should do.” 

“No,” Clarke shook her head. “You signed a lease, what are you going to do? Back out and lose a bunch of money? The ghost is clearly mad that you’re moving in and he’s trying to stop you from unpacking. We just need him to get to know you a little bit.” 

“Right,” Bellamy said, the sarcasm biting. “Let’s hold a fucking séance in my apartment.” 

They held a fucking séance in his apartment. 

They didn’t have a candle so they settled for the flashlight app on Clarke’s iphone and set it down in the middle of the floor. Clarke thought they should get dried herbs involved somehow but Bellamy refused to use his stash of peppermint teabags as a bona fide substitute for witchcraft supplies. 

They sat down cross-legged on the floor and held hands to form a circle around the iphone. 

“Restless spirits,” Clarke addressed the room at large with her eyes closed. “We reach out to you now in friendship and respect. You seem nervous to have new tenants in your, uh… location of haunting.” 

Bellamy snickered but didn’t say anything. 

“We just wanted to assure you that we’re not going to compromise the historical integrity of this apartment. Bellamy loves history.” 

“How’d you know that?” Bellamy wrenched his eyes open and dropped her hands. “Homer and Euripides were at the bottom of the book box.” 

“I know everything,” Clarke snapped, “Octavia never shuts up about you, now let me finish the séance.” 

He grudgingly took her hands again, squeezing perhaps a little harder than was necessary. 

“Ow,” Clarke grunted. “Anyway, as I was saying, Bellamy has such a boner for history and wouldn’t dream of disturbing this fine apartment space. In fact the crown molding is probably what sold him on this lease in the first place. Right, Bell?” 

Bellamy coughed and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Definitely. I love the crown molding and I do have an appreciation for history,” he cracked one eye open to stare pointedly at Clarke. “Plus I signed a contract that said I’d never get my $500 deposit back if I make any permanent changes to the apartment, and I can’t afford to lose that $500 so-”

“Right,” Clarke interrupted. “So we kindly ask you to stop treating Bellamy with hostility because he really just wants to respect this place and have it as his home.” 

They sat there quietly waiting for a moment but nothing happened. Clarke opened her eyes and let go of Bellamy’s hands. 

“Hm,” Clarke hummed. “I expected more of a reaction,” she admitted. 

Bellamy nodded and looked around the apartment. Shrugging, he looked back to Clarke but her eyes were wide and fixed on his neck. He looked down to see the drawstrings of his hoodie floating upward. He shouted out and jumped to his feet. 

“YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE,” Clarke shouted furiously. She scrambled to her feet and swatted the drawstrings down. 

Her iphone skittered across the floor and she all but dragged Bellamy with her to chase it down. She scooped it off the floor and suddenly all of the doorknobs started jangling at once. The cupboard doors opened and shut violently in the kitchen. Bellamy grabbed a hold of Clarke and looked down at her with wide eyes. 

“C’mon,” he pulled her towards the front door. “We need to go.”

They slammed the door shut and raced into Clarke’s apartment. 

“We need to make sure they don’t follow us,” Clarke panted. 

“What’s your wifi password?” Bellamy demanded. 

They spent the night (morning?) running around the apartment and frantically googling how to ghost-proof a house. Eventually they passed out in Clarke’s bed but not before queuing up spongebob on Netflix for comforting background noise. 

They woke the next morning to blinding sunlight streaming in through the windows. 

“Arghh,” Bellamy groaned and threw his free arm over his eyes. Clarke made similar noises of complaint and buried her face into his chest. Bellamy was fairly sure it was her hair tickling his cheek but he wasn’t about to open his eyes and check. He just patted around her waist to ensure the body he was hugging was somewhat Clarke-shaped. Clarke groaned and aimed a fist at his wandering hand but nestled closer to him. 

“I see you’ve met,” a familiar voice rang out loudly. 

Bellamy sat bolt upright and nearly sent Clarke sprawling off the bed. 

“Octavia!” he shouted. 

His baby sister was standing next to the window and smiling like the cat who caught the canary. 

“Octavia, how’d you get in here?” Clarke squinted through slitted eyes. 

“Your front door was unlocked,” Octavia shrugged. “Real safe, you guys.”

Bellamy and Clarke shot each other matching looks of exasperation.

 

“By the way,” Octavia said casually. “Next time you text me with ‘New apt sucks. Ghosts everywhere. Might die, I love you’, would it kill you to send a follow up text once you’re safe?” 

Clarke snickered and Bellamy pummeled her with a pillow before turning back to Octavia. 

“Sorry, O,” he grumbled. “We had a bit of a situation here last night.” 

“Yeah, I gathered as much,” Octavia leaned back against the window sill. “What’s with all the salt in the front doorway?” 

Bellamy and Clarke looked at each other shiftily. 

“Bellamy saw it in an episode of Supernatural, once,” Clarke shrugged.

“And the water all over the floor?” Octavia probed.

“Holy water,” Bellamy admitted.

Octavia raised an eyebrow.

“Where in the fuck did you get holy water?”

Clarke shifted in her seat and picked at the blankets strewn across her lap.

“We uh, we blessed a big batch of it in the bathtub, we weren’t sure how much we’d need.”

Octavia clapped a hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her giggles.

“Wait a sec,” Bellamy pointed a finger at Octavia. “How did you know to find me here?” he asked.

Octavia rolled her eyes and held her phone up for him to see.

“I’m a woman of science but I’m telling you, ghosts are real. These are my last words, share my legacy,” she read off of the screen. “Clarke sent me like 8 texts along those lines. I figured you two were together. After that it wasn’t hard to piece together you’d moved in across the hall.”

Bellamy nodded and scowled down at the blanket.

“You two are a bunch of drama queens,” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Now get up. I’m making you pancakes and then we’re going ghost hunting.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Were the windows open?”

“No.” 

“What about the shelf? Was it level?”

“Yes,” Bellamy and Clarke answered in unison. 

“And you’re sure you weren’t standing over a vent when your drawstrings started floating?” 

Bellamy rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. 

“Yeah, Octavia, I’m a regular Marilyn Monroe.” 

Clarke snickered into her chocolate milk. 

“I’m just checking,” Octavia raised her hands. 

“Trust me,” Clarke butted in through a mouthful of pancakes. “This defied logical explanation.” 

“Hm,” Octavia nodded. “Well in that case-“ she reached out and swept both Bellamy and Clarke’s plates away. 

“Hey!” Bellamy cried. 

“You’ve had enough,” Octavia said firmly. “We have investigating to do.” 

“Me and Clarke already conducted an investigation. The results of that investigation indicated that the apartment is haunted as shit. Case closed.” 

Octavia dropped the plates in the sink with a clang and turned to face him, crossing her arms. 

“Bellamy, are you or are you not an academic?” she asked. 

“I am,” he answered. 

“And have you or have you not had your papers published in academic journals?” 

“I have,” he said cagily. 

“Then you’re familiar with peer review?” she asked. 

“Octavia!” he burst. 

“Shut up!” she insisted. “As far as I can see we’ve got reviewer one,” she pointed at him, “reviewer two,” she pointed at Clarke, “and, oh! Reviewer three,” she turned her finger towards herself and poked her chest with a triumphant smile. 

Bellamy mouthed wordlessly for a moment before slapping his hand down on the table.

“That doesn’t even make any sense, Octavia!” 

“No, Bell,” she shook her head solemnly. “It makes so much sense that it makes you angry. Because I just out grad school’d you. And you know I’m right.” 

Bellamy breathed hard through his nose and looked to Clarke. 

She shrugged. 

“I was running on no sleep,” she said. “And while I don’t think I imagined all that, it wouldn’t hurt to take a second look. I mean- now that I am an actual functioning human.” 

Bellamy drummed his fingers on the table. 

“Alright,” he stood up. “Let’s get this over with.” 

They crossed the hall and entered Bellamy’s apartment. This time, Clarke had ditched her slippers and donned a pair of running shoes. 

“In case we need to make a quick escape,” she explained. 

She and Bellamy still wore their pajamas. 

“Alright,” Octavia said and rubbed her hands together once they were inside. “Let’s see some ghosts!” 

“Octavia, shh!” Bellamy hushed her. “Don’t be so flippant, I think they find it disrespectful.” 

“Well, good,” Octavia said. “I want them to get all riled up so I can see what we’re up against,” she jutted out her chin. “So far all I can see is that you’ve made zero headway with unpacking.” 

“I was a little busy, O,” Bellamy rolled his eyes. “On account of the ghosts.” 

“Pfft, ghosts, shmosts,” Octavia said loudly. “I haven’t seen a thing, these ghosts are weak.” 

As if on cue, the doorknobs jangled violently. The cupboard doors in the kitchen opened and slammed shut again and again and again. One of Bellamy’s boxes started sliding across the floor. Bellamy and Clarke stepped together until they were shoulder to shoulder and backed against the wall. Octavia remained in the centre of the living room, her head swiveling to take in all of the action. 

She turned and looked at Bellamy and Clarke over her shoulder. 

“This is what got you two so scared?” she demanded. “Please,” she waved a hand dismissively, “This is nothing.” 

She turned and raised her chin to the ceiling. Her feet planted solidly on the ground, a shoulder’s width apart and her hands curled into fists at her sides. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back and with the chaos swirling all around her, she looked like a beautiful, yet terrifying, warrior princess. She opened her mouth to speak and Bellamy and Clarke waited with bated breath to hear what she had to say to the ghosts. 

 

 

 

 

  
“I CAN MAKE LOUD NOISES TOO,” she screamed to the room at large. She stomped her feet against the wooden floor and clapped her hands together forcefully. Octavia ran into the kitchen and jumped up to vault herself onto the counter. She squatted next to the microwave and slammed the cabinet door closed over and over. 

“I’M JUST AS LOUD AS YOU AND I AM NOT AFRAID,” she hollered in song. 

Clarke’s mouth fell open in shock and Bellamy simply stared with his entire face scrunched up. Even the ghosts’ antics paused for a moment before starting back up again with fervor. 

“YOU THINK YOU CAN SCARE ME AWAY?” Octavia shouted and slapped the wall repeatedly with her hand. “I’LL SCARE YOU AWAY. MAYBE I’LL HAUNT YOU!” 

Octavia jumped off the counter and landed heavily on the floor. It was a miracle really that Bellamy heard the knocking at the front door over the combined sound of the cupboard doors slamming and Octavia’s imitations of ghost noises. Bellamy grabbed Clarke by the hand and tugged her along with him before reaching for the doorknob. As soon as he swung the front door open, the ghosts’ antics ceased all together. The same could not be said of Octavia. 

In the hallway stood a stout, red-faced man in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. His clothes said vacation but he did not look relaxed. 

“What on god’s green earth are you doing in there?” he asked, moustache at full twitch. 

Bellamy scratched the back of his head and licked his lips. 

“Uhh-“ 

“If there is some sort of an emergency that warrants this amount of screaming and banging, then by all means let me know, and I will happily dial 911 for you,” the man said. “If there is not an emergency then I ask you to keep it down or I will happily dial 911 anyway to file a noise complaint with the police,” he shoved Bellamy in the chest to punctuate his point.

Bellamy blinked and looked down at his chest before raising his eyes with his jaw clamped tight. 

“Okay,” Clarke wrinkled her nose and took a step in front of Bellamy. “We’re very sorry and we’ll try to keep it down,” she reached out and put a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “We hope we never give you reason for complaint again but if such an unfortunate incident should happen, I’d advise you to keep your hands to yourself. For your sake.”

She smiled sweetly and slammed the door in the man’s quivering, mustachioed face.

Bellamy sighed and his shoulders slumped. 

“Great, now I have a ghost infested apartment, and neighbours who hate me.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Clarke shook his shoulder. “Octavia!” she turned and shouted into the kitchen. “Wrap it up, we gotta get out of here before someone call the cops.” 

Octavia emerged from the kitchen looking flush from shouting and with her hair all mussed. 

“Well, the ghosts stopped, so I think I’ve done my job,” she grinned. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that had more to do with the neighbor at the door than with your little dominance display,” Bellamy said.

“No way,” Octavia shook her head. “I scared them away. See? All you need to do is stand up to them,” she nodded and grinned up at Bellamy. Her satisfied smile slipped away and she whirled around, slapping at her shoulder in the process. 

“O?” Bellamy asked. 

“Something’s touching me,” Octavia said with her eyes wide as she performed a bizarre version of the Macarena to brush the ghosts’ hands away. Suddenly, Octavia’s feet were pulled out from under her. She screamed and fell to the ground. 

Bellamy leapt towards her and pulled her up. 

“Out,” he growled, “right now.” 

He put one arm around her and ushered her to the front door while looking over his shoulder for Clarke. 

“Clarke!” he called insistently. 

“I’m here,” she said breathlessly. “I’m with you.” 

She put her hands on his lower back and pushed him out the front door before slamming it behind her. 

The three of them hunched over in the hallway, breathing hard. 

“Okay,” Octavia exhaled. “Reviewer three confirms- the apartment is haunted as shit.” 

***  
“Clarke, your door’s unlocked again- oh,” Octavia paused in the front door with her keys clutched in her hands. 

Bellamy and Clarke were both huddled on the couch nursing mugs of tea and watching TV. They startled and stared up at Octavia from the couch. 

“Bell, are you still here?” Octavia kicked off her shoes 

“No,” Bellamy said, his eyes sliding back to the TV. “This is just an illusion, my real physical form is elsewhere.” 

Octavia crossed her arms and tapped her toe against the floor. 

“What are you going to do about this?” She asked. “You can’t just hide in Clarke’s apartment forever. You need to do something,” she insisted. 

“We are doing something,” Clarke said and took a sip of her tea. “We’re researching,” she nodded at the TV. 

Octavia turned to see Bill Murray running across the screen in a jumpsuit. 

“Ghostbusters?” she asked. “That’s your plan? Whose idea was this.”

Bellamy jerked his thumb at Clarke and she hid her face behind her mug. 

“We’re getting desperate, okay?” Clarke said. “Yesterday we went in there and tried to vacuum the ghosts up.” 

“How’d that go,” Octavia perched on the arm of the couch. 

“Not good,” Bellamy shook his head. “They did not like it.” 

“They threw a book at my head,” Clarke complained. 

“Did it hit you?” Octavia asked. 

“Nah,” Clarke smiled. “Dodged it,” she slapped Bellamy’s hand for a no-look low-five. 

“You two are pathetic,” Octavia shook her head. “Lucky for you, I called in some reinforcements.” 

“O, I swear to God, if you spent money on a psychic, I’m going to murder you,” Bellamy said. 

“And then you’ll have one more ghost to worry about because I’ll definitely come back to haunt you,” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Of course I didn’t call in a psychic, just a couple of friends.” 

Bellamy and Clarke groaned in unison. 

“What?” Octavia asked. “You’ve lived here almost four days and you haven’t met anyone from town yet,” she shoved Bellamy in the shoulder. “And don’t even get me started on you,” she pointed a finger at Clarke. 

“I’m busy!” Clarke insisted. “I’m in med school!” 

“That’s no excuse for becoming a hermit!” Octavia said. “Come on, Raven says she hasn’t seen you in a month.” 

Clarke shifted in her seat and tucked her hair behind her ears. 

“Okay, fine,” she relented. “When are they coming?” 

“Any minute,” Octavia grinned. “And I ordered pizza, hope that’s cool.” 

Twenty minutes later, Clarke’s apartment was packed with people. 

“I just don’t buy it,” Raven shook her head and picked the pepperoni off her pizza. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she insisted as she passed her pepperonis off to Wick. “I’m a mechanic, a woman of science.”

“So am I,” Clarke beseeched her. “I’m a doctor!” 

“Oh my god,” Bellamy squeezed the bridge of his nose, “can we have this conversation without making declarative statements about what degrees we have?” 

“Definitely not,” Wick said flatly. “But that’s just my opinion as an engineer.” 

Bellamy clapped a hand to his face in exasperation. 

“Have you considered the possibility that this is some sort of Scooby Doo situation?” Jasper asked around a mouthful of pizza. 

“What do you mean,” Bellamy asked. 

Jasper opened his mouth to talk and promptly started choking. 

“He means like someone’s setting you up,” Monty answered for him and thumped him on the back. “Like maybe the landlord is tricking you into thinking the apartment’s haunted so you’ll back out on the lease and have to pay out for breaching contract,” he explained. 

“Exactly,” Jasper gasped. 

“I don’t know,” Clarke said and met Bellamy’s eye. “I don’t see how anyone could have faked what we saw.” 

Bellamy shook his head in agreement. 

“Okay,” Raven nodded. “Well that’s why we’re here. If there’s a scientific explanation for what’s going on in there then we’ll figure it out,” she nodded at Monty. 

Wick coughed pointedly. 

“And Wick will try to help,” Raven added. 

“Wow, thanks,” Wick rolled his eyes. “That was almost positive.” 

“Shut up,” she bumped her shoulder against his and stole his crust off his plate. 

Once they all had their share of pizza, they traipsed across the hall to Bellamy’s apartment. 

Octavia pulled a box out from under her arm and set it on the floor. 

“A Ouiji board, Octavia?” 

“Seriously?” 

“Hey!” Octavia pointed a finger at Bellamy. “Nothing else has worked. We might as well just ask the ghosts what they want.” 

She opened the box and unfolded the board on the floor. She stared around at the circle of friends seated on the ground.

“Okay,” she said. “If this is going to work, I need everyone to solemnly swear not to move the planchette on their own. We need to know that the ghost is doing it.” 

“Planchette?” Bellamy asked with a highly affected, French accent. 

“Ooh la la,” Raven blew a kiss. 

“Comme ci, comme ca,” Wick tucked his hand under his chin and waggled his fingers. 

“Shut up,” Octavia said. “I still need you all to solemnly swear,” she insisted. 

“I solemnly swear,” Clarke said. 

“I solemnly swear,” the other four rang in together. 

“Good,” Octavia nodded and set the planchette in the centre of the board. 

“What about you?” Bellamy pointed at her. 

“What about me?” Octavia asked. 

“You didn’t solemnly swear.” 

“Of course I solemnly swear,” she said, “it was my god damn idea. Alright,” she jerked her head. “Hands in, everyone get a finger on the planchette.” 

They all reached in and silence fell over the room. 

“Start it,” Raven poked Octavia in the ribs. 

“Right,” Octavia nodded. “Uhh, dear ghosts-“ 

Muffled giggles broke out throughout the circle. 

“Dear ghosts,” Octavia said, louder this time. “We’re here today to ask what we can do to put you to rest. What do you want us to do?” 

Slowly, the planchette started to move. There was a collective gasp in the room as it pointed to the first letter. 

“C,” Octavia read out loud. 

Quicker this time, the planchette slid across the board. 

“O,” everyone else chimed in to read aloud. 

“Do we have to all say it together like we’re on Family Feud?” Bellamy complained. 

“Shut up,” Octavia elbowed him. 

Clarke shoved her face into his shoulder to keep from laughing aloud. 

“U” 

“Well that’s a relief,” Jasper whispered. “I was scared it would be a ‘w’ and we’d have to sacrifice a cow to the ghosts.” 

“We’d just barbeque hamburgers, it wouldn’t have been that bad,” Wick whispered back. 

“Shut up,” Octavia hissed. 

“R”

“T”

The planchette slid back to the centre of the board and stopped moving. 

“Court?” Bellamy asked. “What the fuck? It wants us to play basketball?” 

Raven snickered and shook her head. Here eyes flicked from Bellamy to Clarke to the board and she frowned. 

“Maybe tennis?” Clarke suggested. 

“Maybe Mario Tennis,” Jasper nodded sagely. 

“We totally could,” Monty murmured furtively. “My Super Nintendo is in the car downstairs.” 

“You know,” Clarke said and looked around the room. “That might not be such a bad idea. The ghosts are being surprisingly well behaved.” 

“Yeah,” Bellamy nodded and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “They haven’t really done anything today.” 

“Well good,” Wick thumped him on the chest. “Maybe they’re finally letting you move in.”

“Maybe,” Bellamy said slowly. “I guess we could try unpacking again.” 

They all stood up and started cautiously shifting boxes around the room. It wasn’t long before Bellamy’s books were on the shelf and his dishes were in the cupboards and his TV was set up in the living room. 

Monty hooked up his Super Nintendo and Jasper microwaved some popcorn. Everyone seemed content to accept that the ghosts had left them alone and they were free to just chill in Bellamy’s apartment. Everyone except for Octavia. 

She sighed and looked around the apartment, wondering what made the ghosts let up so quickly. Feeling a little desperate, she googled the word ‘court’ to see what would come up. She was aimlessly scrolling through various definitions on dictionary.com when something caught her eye. 

 

_court: verb (used with object)_  
17.to try to win the favor, preference, or goodwill of  
18.to seek the affections of; woo. 

 

She frowned at her phone and then looked across the room at Bellamy and Clarke. They were squashed into the corner of the couch where Clarke was focusing intently on beating Monty at Mario Tennis. Clarke had her tongue out in concentration and she muttered something that made Bellamy throw his head back laughing. He tossed an arm around her shoulder and she leaned back against his chest without looking away from the screen. 

Octavia pulled her eyes away from Bellamy and Clarke to find Raven staring at her. 

“Figure it out yet?” Raven asked her quietly. “Those ghosts are crafty, huh?” 

“Masterful,” Octavia shook her head in disbelief. “It’s fucking genius.” 

“Scary, right?” Raven nodded and took a sip of her beer. 

“Yeah,” Octavia agreed. A grin took over her face. “You know, you should probably be careful,” she nudged Raven in the shoulder. “Now that the ghosts have done their job here they might follow you home, set you up with one of your neighbours,” she prodded her. 

“Pfft, I doubt that,” Raven scoffed but her cheeks reddened and her eyes darted to Wick. 

“We can arrange for this,” Octavia stood to her feet. “I’ll go get the Ouija board.”


End file.
